Summary: Truths
Date: PHD023 (11 May 2009)
Related Logs: Regs and Rabbits

Castor is in the laundry room, his clothes are spinning and the pilot quietly is humming an old Aquarian tune to himself. The song he is humming tells the story of tragic love between a sailor and the man she left behind on the shore. The song ends with the sailor dead and the man alone sitting on the shore. His body posture is slightly slumped over as he sits in the chair, though, it is laundry he is working on finishing not flying a viper.

Well, the only reason for a person to come in here is to do laundry, really, and it seems that's what draws Eddie in here. She has a bag slung over her shoulder and a cigarette is smoldering in her lips. There is no pomp and circumstance surrounding her arrival, but she does give Castor a nod as she slides up to a machine.

Castor sits up as Eddie walks in, "Mooner, can I talk to you for a moment?" His voice carries a certain weight to it in fact it is the kind of weight that screams serious discussion is about to take place. "I'd like to talk to you about Private Xylander and a conversation you had with her." His voice is cool and calm though it carries a sense of gravity to it.

Eddie screws up her face, "Private who? Look, if this is one of the blokes I played a round of fistacuffs with, the CAG already handled it and it's gone to the JAG already." Clearly, she has no idea who he's referring to. "Wait, you said her? Doesn't ring any bells." She starts loading the washing machine with what is quite apprently a male's clothing, not her own. "Go ahead, shoot."

Castor notices the male laundry and scans to see if there is a name on any of the shirts, "The Combat Medic Eileithyia. It is my understanding that you held a discussion with her regarding fraternization aboard the ship." He seems to loosen up a bit as Eddie doesn't realize who he is talking about, "Mooner, you scared the poor woman half out of her mind."

Eddie gives a bark of laughter, almost loosing her cigarette into the laundry basin. "/HER/? Heh. Look, sir. I don't give a shit who you're frakking, I just told her not to make it so damn obvious. She was practically in your /lap/ in the lounge. I was just giving her friendly advice." Ample amount of soap is sprinkled in, before the wash machine's lid clangs shut.

Some of the fatigues bear Dash's name on them.

Castor takes a moment as this new information becomes something of a revelation. He then leans back in his seat, "Frak me, Mooner. You really do keep us all jumping don't you." His tone is friendly now, "I really thought you laid into the Private. Especially since she has been in a rough patch recently." He then says, "How is Dash holding up?"

Eddie shrugs. "Good I guess. Haven't been up to see him since last night." She hops up on the machine, pulling her cigarette out of her mouth if only to ash it on the deck floor. "If I'd laid into her, she would have been left curled in a ball, pissing herself on the floor. If she can't take a little wink about her indiscretions, then she shouldn't be schtooping an officer."

The Aquarian slowly nods his head, "I'll make sure she has been informed on the proper regulations regarding dating an officer against regulations." He then adds, "By the way, I'm glad to see you made it in safely after our last soiree with the Cylons."

[Intercom] Sen says, "Petty Officer Fenix to Aero Fab. Petty Officer Fenix, please report to Aerospace Fabrication, Deck One Aft."

Eddie snorts as Castor contradicts his own words again, but she's growing used to it. "If you mean how I limped back in like a wounded puppy, gee, thanks. Yeah, I guess that's better then dead. So you /are/ frakking her then?" She asks, tucking her cigarette back in her mouth.

Castor looks up at the Intercom as it booms, "Looks like the Chief is getting called up for…" He pauses as the question is asked and he says simply, "We care about each other deeply however there has been no fraking." He then adds, "Though I could ask the same about you and Poet. I may be risking a black eye but you get all different around the man and I don't mean that in a bad way."

Eddie narrows her eyes slightly at Castor, but turn about is fair play. "He's my home boy. Any shit hits him, it's going to hit me too." She says flatly, as if what he just said could be construed as a threat some how. Her eye is black, her lip is split…some of that shit must have happened recently.

Castor looks up at Eddie and puts his hands up, "Right so we know where we stand then. We all have priorities." He then stands and begins patting his pockets for a cigar. He manages to find one that has been half smoked and then cut in half. He pops the cigar in his mouth and lights it with a zippo lighter with a Battlestar Orpheus Logo on it.

Eddie is sitting on a washmachine, once more doomed to spend her evening doing Dash's laundry. Her black eye is healing, but slowly, the fringes of it that lovely yellow sickly color. She's talking idly with Castor, though the subject matter doesn't seem to be too happy. "Yuuuuuuup."
Most people make forays into the laundry room to do laundry. Kai, however, wanders in dressed in his fatigues, and eating a bowl of jello. The jello that is, not the bowl. Apparently crystallised sugar and jelatin are commodities that haven't quite run out yet. "Evening, Mooner." Swallow. "Tinman."

Castor looks over at Kai as the man enters the room the pilot stands up takes the cigar out of his mouth and throws up a salute, "Captain." He says.

Eddie isn't getting up, isn't saluting. Unless Kai calls for attention, this is an offduty area and she's comfy. Besides, spin cycle isn't too long off. "Sir. Sticking to your five major food groups I see." Her lips pull into a crooked smile, the split in her making it impossible for the emotion to stretch far.

Kai gestures to Castor, and then himself, with his spoon. "Off duty. You don't need to salute me, Lieutenant. I promise the washing machines won't take exception." He doesn't smile. He never smiles. But he does settle one hip against an unused dryer while swallowing another mouthful of jello. "There are five?" he murmurs, dubiously.

Castor looks at Kai, "Sir, the five groups are beer, wine, liquor, meat, and jello." He then says, "Personally, I stick with only four of the groups." He does ease up a bit. What the frak kind of ship was the Orpheus like.

Eddie grimaces at Castor's list. "Wine? Only if you're trying to get into some little enlisted girlie into the sack. I hear that romance stuff works on them." Eddie quips lightly, almost a little too innocently for Mooner. "Right now the only food groups we have are prepackaged cardboard and peanut butter in those annoying little foil packets. I don't know who's leg the Captain humped to get jello, but color me jealous."

Castor looks at Kai, "Sir, the five groups are beer, wine, liquor, meat, and jello." He then says, "Personally, I stick with only four of the groups." He does ease up a bit. What the frak kind of ship was the Orpheus like.

"Of the jello, or the leg?" Nope, Kai's not telling where he got it from. He's also not batting an eye at the Ensign's insinuation that he bumped uglies for the favour. Maybe he's just accustomed to her charm by now. "How's the wing treating you so far, Leda? Fingers made any threats about shoving sharp instruments into bodily orifices yet?"

Castor cooly looks over at Eddie and says nothing however he does blow a smoke ring in Eddie's direction, well, not in front of the Captain at least. He then looks back at Kai, "No sir, everything is going well, that is besides mouthy a certain mouth ensign, everyone here does seem nice enough. We have some talented pilots in the wing, sir." He then takes a puff of his cigar and asks, "I was wondering sir, how long do you think we will be on rations? I ask because I had to live on a tight stomach when I was a kid. So, I am a bit worried about how much of everything we have left." He moves over to a washing machine and flips his laundry.

Eddie seems perfectly content being the burr in people's sides, a little smirk settling onto her features. "Need to be a little further north than just a leg…" She comments absently, before taking another long pull on her cigarette. As the spin cycle kicks in, her expression doesn't change. Seems that, in actuality, doesn't do it for the Ensign either.

Kai keeps his gaze on his wobbly dessert. Or maybe it's dinner. Who knows. He begins carving out another spoonful while the man speaks. "Depends on how long the repairs to the mess hall take." Which means, it's probably above his paygrade to know. Days, weeks maybe. "You'd be surprised how long you can manage on MREs, though." Packaged military rations. Yum. Blue eyes slant toward Eddie, regarding her in a contemplative fashion while Castor goes to change his laundry. "How're you holding up, Morales?"

Eddie should have a smart-assed quip ready to fire off at the Captain at his question, but she merely drops her gaze to her cigarette as she toys with it, a slight shrug shifting her shoulders up and back down. She's in her heavy sweats again, but this time, she's not shy about pushing the fabric up to her elbows. Her forearms are crisscrossed with scars, likely why she was called 'Hashmark' before she rightfully earned the title of Mooner. All the lines are healed, some fading, some still slightly pink. "Was going to see if I could beg off shift tomorrow, sir." Respectful and quiet. An oddity for her.

Castor finishes flipping his laundry and turns to look at Eddie as well curious as to what she will say next. He then leans back against the wall and watches as the lights flicker for a moment. He says softly, "Well, maybe I'll see what I can do about helping with the repairs." He then looks at Kai, "If you decide to let the ensign off shift I'll cover for Mooner sir."

Kai pauses with the spoonful of jello in his mouth, when the lights sputter and dim for a moment. Eyes uplifted, it's like he thinks he might find the source of it with a cursory glance. The pink stuff is swiped off his spoon and swallowed then, attention returning to Eddie. "You're off flight status until I hear otherwise from the CMO, anyway. I suspect the paperwork and wingnuts can wait, unless that's your cup of tea, Leda." He shifts his focus to the other pilot, one brow ticking up slightly.

Castor looks at Kai and says, "Well, I'll do whatever I can to help where I can, sir. I like keeping busy and I like helping others, even if they are mouthy." He also notices the hashmarks on Eddie and notes that she is the second person he has seen with interesting scars. He then says back to Kai, "In fact sir, I've been putting in time learning how Raptor's work and basic repair for them. The Cheif is talented, though, don't tell her I said that."

"I'll talk to the CMO," is Kai's unflinching reply. He finishes off the jello, and sets the spoon in the bowl, and the bowl atop the dryer he's leaned against. "But yes, you can have tomorrow off." Back to Castor, "Right now, I want you flying, and coming home in one piece. That's how you can help." Those cuts and scars on Eddie's arms were certainly noticed, but there's only so much he's going to comment upon in public, likely.
Eddie slides off the machine she's perched on instead of hopping off, not wanting to add insult to the injury of her ribs. "Thank you sir." She mumbles quietly, the lifts the lid of the washing machine to transfer over an entire load of male's clothing to the dryer. She winces once or twice in the process, suffering silently the pains of trying to move and twist with a busted up side.

Castor looks at Kai and uncharacteristically the Aquarian smiles in a full broad smile, "I always come back in one piece, sir." Castor's file did say he had minor hotshot tendancies and clearly it is coming out now. He then asks, "Sir, do we have any pictures of the new Centurions? Reference pictures, I mean the Raiders are new as well, all sleek and silver, I ask seeing as how we probably need to know what the enemy looks like." He then watches Eddie wince and so he tries to change the subject as he says, "If you want…I can help you with your cigarette trick. I busked once long ago."

Kai folds his arms as he eases his butt against the edge of the dryer. Broad shoulders slightly stooped, he has the look of a predatory creature about him more often than not; a look that isn't helped by his sharply angled, almost hawkish facial features. "You're welcome, with the CAG's permission, to go over the gun tapes from the last few engagements, and draw up your own." He considers for a moment. "Your last posting was the Orpheus, right?"
Eddie shoves the last of Dash's laundry into the dryer. "Just stupid agility exercises from flight school. One of my instructors had a retarded obsession with magic." She grumbles around the filter of the cigarette in her mouth, turning down the offer for help with her sleight of hand.

Castor nods to Eddie, "Fair enough, Mooner." However he then looks over at Kai, something about the way the Captain moves and he suddenly becomes a bit more formal. Hearing the name Orpheus pushes it, "Yes sir, I was on the Orpheus.

Formal schmormal. Kai somehow makes his slouch look stiff, which is a skill in and of itself. Blue eyes slink toward Eddie as she shoves his wingman's laundry into the dryer, and rest there a while as Castor speaks. There's something very subtly fond about his regard. "She patrolled the Atalanta sector, didn't she? How did you find your tour aboard her?"

Eddie closes the dryer up, not bothering to add one of those good smelling dryer sheets to the mix. What does she care if Martin smells spring time fresh or not? Leaning heavily against the door, the warmth from the machine seeps into her spine and the whirring hum lulls her into a half comatose look. For a moment, she just listens to the men talk, smoking her cigarette down to the quick.

Castor says, "Well sir, I loved the old gal. She was one helluva boat. Though the Commander made sure we always respected rank." There is something in the way he says respected which has a certain weight to it all. "Before I came here the Orpheus was my career sir, in fact, I haven't been planet side since I left Aquaria. The Atalanta sector is a big place to patrol and so we docked with deep space stations for repairs. I really miss the old gal…"
Kai actually seems to be listening when Castor speaks. Which may or may not be odd, for a Captain with better things to do. "So I've heard," he corroborates easily. His thumb is fidgeting absently with his wedding band, something he's probably not even aware of. "Well a carrier isn't exactly a step up, so I hope you don't mind cozy." Not like he has a choice.

Eddie pushes off the dryer. "I'll be back in a half hour." She tells everyone and no one. Who cares how long she's gone and if she'll be back? Her lips cant towards the ceiling, and she exhales a plume of of smoke like a choo-choo train on her way to the exit.

The Aquarian nods, "Well, cozy seems to be a good thing sir, we are all a bit less formal here." He then closes his eyes, "Sir, you would have loved the air wing on the Orpheus, top of the line pilots, all of them had a ton of flight experience. We had even had some vets from the war, sir. I mean not as pilots mind you, but they did other things. I loved listening to their stories about the things they did." He then opens his eyes and he does seem to notice the wedding ring but he knows better than to ask command personal questions. He also watches as Eddie exits, "Take it easy, Mooner."

Kai's severe expression almost softens a fraction as Castor speaks. Almost. It's like whittling blood out of a stone, some days. "Yeah, it's a little more formal here than I'm accustomed to, as well. But you adapt. Or you get your boxers dyed pink on washday." Nooo that's not a threat. It's just a warning. His eyes flick toward Morales on her way out, then back down again. Eye contact's not so much avoided, as rarely sought. "I knew a few veterans from Pegasus, as well. Dyed in the wool war heroes, otherwise known as pompous asses." His lip curls in a smirk.
Eddie raises her hand over her shoulder in parting, not looking back or verbalizing and pleasantries as she steamrolls out.

Castor says. "Well, of course they were pompous asses, they earned the right." He then says, "Pink boxers huh? I'll remember that." He then says. "Did you ever serve on the Orpheus, sir?"

Kai shakes his head once. "Nope. But I've been around the block enough times, to have heard the names of most battlestars in service. Thirteen years' worth of useless trivia." The corners of his eyes crinkle a little in self-directed denigration. The Pegasus, of course, has a fairly austere reputation as one of the fleet's flagships, and home to an iron fist of a Rear Admiral. "I should warn you, I don't like hotshots, Leda. I don't like them, and I don't tolerate them in my squadron." It's not a threat, so much as a statement of fact.

Castor straightens up, "Understood sir, I've been working on that. I know no one likes a hotshot my role model wasn't a hotshot and he is who I am aiming to be like, sir." He then asks, "You were on the Pegasus right sir? They run a tight ship their, our Commander was fond of quoting the Rear Admiral especially that book of hers on tactics."
"I've seen the book," Kai answers drolly. His arms drop, the fiddling with his ring is abandoned, and his hands retreat back into his fatigues. "And yes, I was. Just keep up the good work, Leda. I haven't seen anything yet that bothers me. I'll let you know if I do." He collects his empty bowl almost as an afterthought. "Keep an eye on your laundry."

Castor nods, "The laundry is safe with me, sir."

Kai crinkles a smile finally, and turns to trudge out.

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